"Tell me about it, you would think he'd run out of new material by now." Wash picked up on Maine's patent disgust when it came to Wyoming's ridiculous penchant for ridiculousness knock-knock jokes.
How Florida stood being partnered and bunked with the man without strangling him was beyond Wash's comprehension. Yet Florida suffered his partner's antics with an almost uncanny cheerfulness. Those two were practically made for each other.
But then, Wash could understand that because he sometimes felt that despite his 'float' status in the squad, he and Maine had always been good partners. He knew he wasn't the best fighter like Carolina or a skilled Locksmith like York. He didn't have the patience demonstrated by North or Wyoming so all in all he was just kind of an every-man in the Project. But his lack of specialty also meant that Washington could be assigned to a wider range of missions than your average Freelancer.
Wash made no move to stop Maine as the taller Freelancer hiked up his shirt to inspect him carefully though he did roll his eyes heavenward in exasperation. "Anyone tell you that you're a bit of a Mother Hen, Maine? Better watch out, North might think you're trying to take away his Team Dad position."
There was no venom in his voice as he teased Maine and even reached out to touch his arm in silent thanks with a subtle nod towards the nightstand. "I see you've been occupying yourself but you're supposed to be resting." Now who was being the Mother Hen?
He heard the entreating quality in that low hiss and to anyone else, it might have simply sounded like another wordless growl. But Wash had learned to pick up the differences in Maine's grunts and other non-verbal communication long before the damned Innie bastard had shot him in the throat and permanently robbed him of his ability to speak. And he'd be lying if he didn't admit a part of him wasn't tempted to let himself be pulled into bed with one of those massive hands pulling him down into that burly and muscular chest.
A pinched look of anxiety touched the younger man's face as he approached. "You should be resting, it's almost zero two hundred. Not that I don't appreciate you defacing my bedside table with pictures of cats, mind you." He knew Maine worried in his own way and that he was unhappy being grounded but the man had very nearly died a few weeks ago.
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How Florida stood being partnered and bunked with the man without strangling him was beyond Wash's comprehension. Yet Florida suffered his partner's antics with an almost uncanny cheerfulness. Those two were practically made for each other.
But then, Wash could understand that because he sometimes felt that despite his 'float' status in the squad, he and Maine had always been good partners. He knew he wasn't the best fighter like Carolina or a skilled Locksmith like York. He didn't have the patience demonstrated by North or Wyoming so all in all he was just kind of an every-man in the Project. But his lack of specialty also meant that Washington could be assigned to a wider range of missions than your average Freelancer.
Wash made no move to stop Maine as the taller Freelancer hiked up his shirt to inspect him carefully though he did roll his eyes heavenward in exasperation. "Anyone tell you that you're a bit of a Mother Hen, Maine? Better watch out, North might think you're trying to take away his Team Dad position."
There was no venom in his voice as he teased Maine and even reached out to touch his arm in silent thanks with a subtle nod towards the nightstand. "I see you've been occupying yourself but you're supposed to be resting." Now who was being the Mother Hen?
He heard the entreating quality in that low hiss and to anyone else, it might have simply sounded like another wordless growl. But Wash had learned to pick up the differences in Maine's grunts and other non-verbal communication long before the damned Innie bastard had shot him in the throat and permanently robbed him of his ability to speak. And he'd be lying if he didn't admit a part of him wasn't tempted to let himself be pulled into bed with one of those massive hands pulling him down into that burly and muscular chest.
A pinched look of anxiety touched the younger man's face as he approached. "You should be resting, it's almost zero two hundred. Not that I don't appreciate you defacing my bedside table with pictures of cats, mind you." He knew Maine worried in his own way and that he was unhappy being grounded but the man had very nearly died a few weeks ago.